The sight of a group of deer on the moor in the slanting light of an autumn morning is one of those things that pulls me back to Blacka again and again. Only when the conservation industry can promise something as memorable as this will they ever gain my support. Because this is something unplanned and unmanaged and that is what increases the pleasure many times over.
There were a dozen with one stag, the worthy Baron and a mix of hinds and young. When the hinds became twitchy at our presence the stag looked up and gave voice magnificently. 'Leave my property alone' could have been the message.
In the afternoon we might have expected them to be gone but they were still there, only for the hinds to dash off in some panic followed by the Baron. No sign now of his two comrades of a few days ago. On our way back we caught up with them again in the trees.
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